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CRADLE SONGS 



BY 

BABYLAND CONTRIBUTORS 




ILLUSTR 






BOSTON 
D. LOTHROP AND COMPANY 

32 FRANKLIN STREET 



■ r Cjt 



Copyright, 1882. 
D. Lothrop & Company. 



A SONG OF SIX-PENCE. 

Sing a song, a brand new song : 
" Sing a song of six-pence, 

A pock-et full of rye." 
John and Jim-my both picked 
some, 

So they could have a pie. 

And when they'd filled their 
pock-ets full, 
Down in the field of rye. 



A SONG OF SIX-PENCE. 

They found some cun-ning 
lit-tle birds, 
To put in-to the pie. 
Six pret-ty lit-tle hid-den nests, 

Down in the yel-low rye, 
Held four-and-twen-ty ba-by 
birds, 
E-nough to fill the pie. 

They set them all with-in the 
dish, 
Lined with a crust of rye ; 
But soon the four-and-twen-ty 
birds 
Cried out in-side the pie. 

Then Jim-my turned and 
looked at John, 



M 










A SONG OF SIX-PENCE. 

And John took up the pie, 
And back the lit-tle lad-dies 
went 
In-to the field of rye. 

The moth-er bird flew up and 
shrieked, 
"O, have you baked that 
pie? 
How can you bring the cru-el 
dish, 
And eat it in the rye ! ' 
John — 

And soon they ate the pie ; 
The biids flew out and found 
their nests 
Down in the yel-low rye. 



PAYING BACK 

Seven happy little chicks walked out 
one day in June, 

Thought they would enjoy the way 
by starting up a tune ; 

Seven ugly little ducks, whose 
names I will not mention, 

Made up their minds to follow them, 
and spoil their good intention ; 

Now everybody knows that a duck- 
ling's voice is deep, 

And everybody knows that quack 
will make more noise than peep. 



PAYING BACK. 

So when they found their music 
drowned, these plucky little chicks 
Made up their minds to cure these 
ducks of all such naughty tricks ; 
So they chased them from the barn- 
yard, on this pleasant day in June, 
Then started on their walk again, 
and went on with their tune. 

— J. S. 



THE GENEROUS CLOVER. 

Clover, clover in the field, 

Why do you hang your head ? 

Have you done anything unkind ? 
Or any cross word said? 



O no, my little maiden, no ! 

I only droop with dew; 

And from my lips sweet honey drips ; 

Come, I will share with you. 

— a C. B. 



WHERE THEY GROW. 

Down in the valley, deep, deep, deep, 
Where little sunbeams wink and peep, 
Under the grasses hiding low — 
There's where the dear little violets 
grow. 

Out in the meadow, bright, bright, 

bright, 
Close by the clovers red and white — 
With heart of gold and a fringe of 

snow, 
There's where the dear little daisies 

grow. 



WHERE THEY GROW. 

Up in the older tree, tree, tree, 
Peep, and a tiny nest you'll see, 
Swung by the bieezes to and fro — 
There's where the dear little bird- 
lings grow. 

Up in the nursery, neat, neat, 

neat, 
Hear the patter of wee, wee 

feet — 
Hear little voices chirp and crow — 
There's where the dear little babies 

grow! 



BA-BY FAY FERN-Y. 

What is this, with blue 
Lit-tle shoes, so new — 
Cun-ning lit-tle feet, 
Trot-ting down the street, 
What will mam-ma say ? 
Ba-by's run a-way — 
Ba-by Fay Fer-ny. 

Calls a boy: " Hal-loo! 

See here, lit-tle pop-pet show, 



BA-BY FAY FERN-Y. 



Come with me ! ' No, no, 
Ba-by's do-in' do 
Ba-by's own self ! Fast 




BA-BY FAY FER-NY. 



Round the cor-ner passed 
Ba-by Fay Fer-ny. 



BA-BY FAY FERN-Y. 

Stops a great big man 
Hur-ry-ing all he can : 
" Here! what's this! My ! 
Dropped down from the sky ? 
Some-bod-y's to blame ! 
Ba-by, what's your name?" 
" Ba-by Fay Fer-ny." 

" Where you go-ing? say!' 
"Day-day." " What's that, hey ? 
See the ba-by fidg-et ! 
What d'you want, you midg-et." 
" Piece o'but-ter-bed, 
Su-gy on it, 'las-ses on it, 
Jam on it," said 

Ba-by Fay Fer-ny, 



BA-BY FAY FERN-Y. 

Peo-ple pause to see : 
La-dies, one, two, three; 
A po-lice-man, too; 
But no one that knew 
Whence the ba-by came. 
" What's your pa-pa's name ?" 
" Pa-pa Fay Fer-ny." 

Comes a breath-less maid : 
" O dear! I'm a-fraid 
Ba-by's lost and gone — 
Ba-by Fer-gu-son ! 
No — there down the street! 
O, you naugh-ty sweet - 
Ba-by Fay Fer-ny ! ' 



THE DOUGH-DOG. 

One day when grandma was making 
some pies, 

She wished to give Tommy a pleas- 
ant surprise ; 

So she made a puppy-dog out of 
some dough, 

And baked it, and marked it, and 
named it Bruno. 

This wonderful dog could stand on 
its feet, 



THE DOUGH-DOG. 



Its body was chubby, and cunning 

and neat, 
Its little dough-head was spotted 

with black, 




BRUNO. 



And its little dough-tail curled over 

its back. 
And when Tommy saw it he shouted 

with glee, 



THE DOUGH-DOG, 

" How good grandma was to make 

that for me ! " 
And he played with the puppy-dog 

day after day, 
Till its head and its tail were both 

worn away. 

—m. u. jv. m 



THE LION'S O-PIN-ION OF 
HIM-SELR 

A li-on gazed down at his 
shad-ow one day ; 

Said he, " I look fierce, I de- 
clare! 

No won-der my neigh-bors 
keep out of my way, 

And wish they were birds of 
the air! 



II mm. 

HP i' 

1U 




THE LION S O-PIN-ION OF HIM-SELF. 

"And I own that real-ly I feel 
a-fraid 

Some-times when I hear my- 
self roar!" 

And he wished as he went 
and lay down in the shade 

That he need be a li-on no 
more. 



WHICH IS TALL-EST. 

Look! how the}' meas-ure ? 

Dai-sy and Rose ; 
Naught-y Dai-sy will stand 

On the tips of her toes ! 

If I was in her place 
I'd try to act fair! 

And Rose is the tall-est 
For all, I de-clare! 



THE ANX-IOUS DOG-GY. 

Take care, lit-tle mas-ter, 

Or you'll fall in ! 
That wa-ter is up 

To your ver-y chin. 

Please don't ! please don't, 
My mas-ter dear — 

O, I wish your moth-er 
Wouldn't send you here ! 



THE ANX-IOUS DOG-GY. 

For oh ! lit-tle mas-ter, 
What could I do, 







If you should fall in, 
But jump in too ? 



NINE LITTLE BIRDIES. 

Nine little birdies rocked by the 
breeze : 

First birdie said, " I'm tired of these 
trees ; " 

Next birdie said, " Where shall we 
go? 

Third birdie said, " Where red cher- 
ries grow ! " 

Fourth birdie said, " Are they ripe, 
do you think ?" 

Fifth birdie laughed with a rogue's 
own wink ; 



NINE LITTLE BIRDIES. 



Sixth birdie said, " I'm sure 

they are ; " 
Seventh birdie said, 

" Is it very far?" 
Eighth birdie said, 
'Who'll leader be?" 
Ninth birdie said, " I'm 

off, follow me ! " 
Whew ! Whew 
And away they all flew 
Into Mr. John Lee's 
Choice cherry trees ! 



that 




WHAT BA-BY DID. 

What do you think the ba-by 

did? 
Why, Ba-by did as he was bid ! 

The dar-ling took a pen, and 

wrote — 
A 1 it-tie in-vi-ta-tion note, 

To all the aunts, and grand- 
mam-ma, 
To un-cles all, and grand-pa-pa, 



WHAT BABY DID. 

To all the ba-by kin ar-ray, 




HE WRITES IT 



To come to din-ner Christ- 
mas Day. 



WHAT BA-BY DID. 



He wrote it ver-y black and 
plain, 




HE MAILS IT. 



Criss-crossed and marked it all 
a-gain ; 



WHAT BA-BY DID. 

And though he had not had 

his nap 
He next was seen in cloak and 

cap, 

And go-ing up the crowd-ed 

street, 
Safe in his hand the mis-sive 

sweet, 

To drop it in the boxhim-self, 
The awful lit-tle dar-ling elf! 



TWO KIND LIT-TLE GIRLS. 

Whith-er a-way, 
Lit-tle la-dies so gay? 
"O, o-ver the hill 
To Grand-moth-er Dill!' 
And what have you there 
In your bas-ket square? 
" O, pud-dings and pies, 
A lit-tle sur-prise !" 
Why such good-will 
To Grand-moth-er Dill ? 



TWO KIND LIT-TLE GIRLS. 



"O, ev-er-y one should 
On Christ-mas do good ! " 







Lit-tle maids, good day ! 
Flow-ers strew your way ! 



AN APRIL RAIN. 

You poor little birds, 
It's happened again — 

In the midst of your play 
Down patters the rain. 

You were caught in a shower 

Just so last week, 
And I thought that morning 

I ought to speak ; 

I hear you all up 
A-singing at dawn, 



AN APRIL RAIN. 




I know you have tried 
Each tree on thelawn, 

Yet not one of you all 
Have picked up a 
straw — 
Such improvident 
birds 
I ne'er before saw. 



But I hope you see now 
That it would be best 
To let your play go 
And build you a nest 



___ 



' ^f: 



WHAT THE GRASSES SAID. 

Who can hear the grass talk ? 

Very few, I know ; 
Yet it whispers every day, 

Sweet and soft and low. 



And one day I heard it ; 

Shall I tell you when? 
I lay on the grass to read, 

And I heard it then. 



Everything was pleasant ; 
Bright the sun did shine; 



WHAT THE GRASSES SAID. 

Dew lay in the flowers' eyes, 
Heavy sleep in mine ; 



So I gently shut them ; 

Soon they opened wide ; 
For I heard the grasses talk 

Fast on every side ! 

This is what they talked about: 
"Oh, what pleasant weather! 

Lift your heads up to the sun, 
Nod and wave together ! 



" We're so glad that we are grass, 
Cool and soft and green; 

Oh, how sad the earth would look 
If no grass were seen ! 



WHAT THE GRASSES SAID. 

" And we love the summer warm, 
But, oh, dear ! oh, dear ! 

What will little grasses do 
When winter cold is here? 



" How the wind will whistle 
Round about our heads ! 

Oh it's very hard to have 
No covers on our beds ! " 



Then the wise red-rose bush 
Tall, and rough and old, 

Shook his head, and kindly said, 
" You will not be cold, 

" For God sends a blanket warm 
For every blade of grass, 



WHAT THE GRASSES SAID. 

Soft and light, and white as wool ; 
Not a blade He'll pass ! " 



" What's the blanket made of ? 

Quick! we want to know!" 
" Why, my dears," the rose-bush said, 

" God's blanket is the snow." 

— J. S. 



TAB-BY'S LULL-A-BY. 

Wash-wash-you-cat, 

Now this side, now that ! 
Wash-wash-you-cat, 

Keep clean and grow fat 

Four lit-tle ears, 

And eight lit-tle paws, 
Two small nos-es, 

And for-ty sharp claws, 



TAB-BY S LULL-A-BY. 

Give moth-er's tongue 
great deal to do. 
So hush ! keep still, 
And I'll sing to you : 

Purr-r ! purr-r ! 

hi a sil-ver house, 
Moth-er once saw 

A lit-tle white mouse, 

Soft white fur, 

And lit-tle pink eyes, 
So round mid plump, 

And so ver-y wise. 

Wash-wash-you-cat, 

Now hold up your chin. 



TAB-BY S LULL-A-BY. 

Me-ow! don't you scratch — 
To scratch is a sin. 

Me-ow! Me-ow! 

You bad lit-tle cat, 
You mustn't bite; 

Moth-er won't stand thai 

Purr-r! purr-r ! 

Now shut up your eyes ; 
Moth-er will make 

You some cat-nip pies. 

Purr-r ! purr-r ! 

Lit-tle balls of fur, 
Purr-r ! purr-r ! 

Lie still, and don't stir. 



TAB-BY S LULL-A-BY. 

Wash-wash-you-cat, 
Lit-tle balls of fur ! 

Wash-wash-you-cat, 
Purr-r ! purr-r ! 



SOME NAUGHY I'S. 

"I I I " 

Some little people cry : 
" I won't, I can't, 
I shall, I shan't—" 

Oh, what a naughty I ; 

"II!" 

J., X, i, 

Now hear them passing by 

" I han't, I be, 

I are, I see — " 
Oh, what a naughty I. 



AT BREAK-FAST. 

A gay lit-tle bird 

That want-ed some fun 
Flew in and light-ed 
On the ba-by's bun. 

He pecked at a cur-rant, 
He sipped from the cup, 

Then hopped on the loaf, 
And thus piped up : 



AT BREAK-FAST. 



" feep-sy weeps I Ba-by, say, 
What'll you give if I will stay? 
Peep-sy weeps ! Ba-by, O, 
What'll you give if I will go ?' : 







AN AS-TON-ISHED BA-BY. 



He splashed the milk, 
He nib-bled the bread, 



AT BREAK-FAST. 

He spread both wings, 
He stood on his head. 

But still the ba-by 

Said nev-er a word — 

And out of the win-dow 
Flashed the bird ! 

" Peep-sy weeps!' loud sang 

he, 
"Such a stu-pid ba-by I nev-er 

did see ! 
Nev-er a smile, nev-er a 

word — 
Peep-sy weeps ! I'm glad I'm 

a bird ! " 



BA-BY DIM-PLE AT BREAK- 
FAST. 

She sits in the porch with her 
sau-cer ; 
Smeared are her fin-gers 
and thumbs ; 
While a-round with nois-y clat- 
ter 
Old hen, with her chick-ens 
comes. 



BA-BY DIM-PLE AT BREAK-FAST. 

Ba-by shoos and shoos, and 
strikes them 
With the spoon that spills 
the crumbs: 
" Do 'way chick-ies ! 'ou sarit 
hab em — 
My nice bivead an lasses 
turns ! ' 



But the chick-ies sly will pick 

them 
When Miss Dim-pie's not 

on the watch ; 
And old moth-er hen comes 

bold-ly 




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BA-BY DIM-PLE AT BREAK FAST. 

With her mind made up for 
a snatch. 
Take care, Mrs. Hen-ny-pen- 
ny ! 
One good rap is what you 
catch, 
With Miss Dim-pie's sharp ad- 
vise-ment : 
" 'Ou la-zy oF fing — go 
scwatch ! ' 



NOBODY KNOWS. 

How the wind whistles and roars ! 
How he blows, he blows, and he 

blows ! 
But what does he say at the doors ? 
Nobody knows, nobody knows. 

The ground is covered with white, 
For it snows, it snows, and it snows ; 
But it falls so silent at night 
That nobody knows, nobody knows. 

The grass is springing again, 
And it grows, it grows, and it grows, 



NOBODY KNOWS. 

In the sunshine and the rain — 
How, nobody knows, nobody knows. 

Hear the black cock flap his wings ! 
And he crows, he crows, and he 

crows ; 
But whether he laughs or he sings, 
Why, nobody knows, nobody knows. 

The brook runs sparkling along, 
And it flows, it flows, and it flows; 
But what is its rippling song, 
Why, nobody knows, nobody knows. 

The cow comes down through the 

lane, 
And she lows, she lows, and she lows ; 
But what she says it is plain 
That nobody knows, nobody knows, 



NOBODY KNOWS. 

Over the fields and away 
Fly the crows, the crows, the crows ; 
They caw, they caw, but they say 
What nobody knows, nobody knows. 

— E. B. 



THE LOST CHICKENS. 

" Cluck, cluck ! cluck, cluck ! " called 
the mother-hen, 
"Some harm has come to my 
chickens, I fear ; 
I counted this morning, and then 
there were ten ; 
Now four are gone, and but six are 
here." 



THE LOST CHICKENS. 



" Peep, peep ! peep, peep ! " four chick- 
ens replied, 
As they sipped the dew from a 
burdock leaf; 




"all safe and sound." 



" We must hurry back to our mother's 
side, 



THE LOST CHICKENS, 

She is calling us now with a voice 
of grief." 

Then away to her side they ran 
again, 

Leaving the dainty drink they had 

found; 
" Cluck, cluck ! cluck, cluck ! " said the 

mother-hen, 

" Here are my ten, all safe and 

sound." 

—M. K N. H. 



LIKE BABY. 

I'm going to make a dolly, 
Just like the baby there; 

I'm going to take some sunshine 
And twist it up for hair. 

I'm going to take the bluest speck 
In all the great blue skies, 

And make a bright blue pretty pair 
Of little winking eyes. 

I'm going to take some roses, 
The sweetest, brightest pink, 



L1KK bAr>i. 

To make her little darling cheeks, 
The very thing, I think ! 

But, oh dear me ! I surely am 
Forgetting all the while, 

I cannot find a single thing 
To make baby's smile. 



HOW THE BABY WAS 
NAMED. 

Mother's busy washing ; 

Jack has gone to school ; 
Baby's in the garden ; 

Kitty has a spool. 

Every one is busy 

This bright summer day, 
None more so than Baby, 

Working hard to play. 




I 



HOW THE BABY WAS NAMED. 

Hat stuck full of daisies, 
Dolls are daisy-crowned — 

Daisies, daisies everywhere 
Lying on the ground. 

Out comes little pussy 
Tossing them about ; 

Baby calls, " Go way now ! " 
With a little pout. 

Summer sun grows warmer; 

Baby tires with play ; 
Down upon the green grass 

Fast asleep she lay; 

Daisies all about her, 

Sunshine overhead, 
Pussy nestled closely 

In this summer bed. 



HOW THE BABY WAS NAMED. 

Mother from her washing 
Comes, and finds her there 

With the wide-eyed daisies 
Nestling in her hair. 

Then was Baby christened 
In the summer sweet ; 

Now, no longer " Baby," 
But sweet Marguerite. 



THE WINDOW-PANE TREE. 

With her warm little finger, 

Gold Locks wrote 
On the icy window-pane 

A note. 

tl Make me a Christmas-tree," 

It read ; 
It was signed with a flourish, 

" Yours, Gold Head." 

Then out came the sunlight's 
Sparkling ray ; 



THE WINDOW-PANE TREE. 

It melted the message 
All away. 

But the very next morning, 

Lo! behold! 
On the glass of the window, 

White and cold, 

Was a tapering fir-tree, 
Weighed with snow, 

Spire-like at the top, 
And broad below. 

Cried out little Gold Locks, 

" See, oh, see ! 
Jack Frost has painted 

My Christmas-tree ! " 



BIRDS IN WINTER. 

Come now, little birds, 

You must stop in your play, 
The snow's coming down, 

You must hide you away. 

You must huddle together 
And keep yourselves warm, 

In snug nooks and corners 
Shut out from the storm. 

Be patient and wait, 
The clouds will go by, 

And sunshine once more 
Will brighten the sky. 



BIRDS IN WINTER. 




In the woods and the 

fields 

Where summer-plants 

grew, 

The buds and the seeds 

Are stored up for you. 

You can seek them for 
food 
When the weather is 
fair, 

And chirp your sweet son°*s 
In the clear pleasant air. 




THREE TRAVELLERS. 

Three funny little travellers 
Set out to leave the town ; 

And all they wore to keep them warm 
Was one white, ruffled gown. 

I asked these little travellers 
If far they meant to roam. 

" Oh, no," they all together said ; 
11 We'll not go far from home." 

The first brave one who started 
out 
Was our sweet Baby May ; 



THREE TRAVELLERS. 

She said, " I'm going to By-lo-Land," 
In such a sleepy way. 

The second one, in gown of white, 

Was Alice, six years old ; 
She said, " I go to Shutty-eye-town," 

And on she went, both fast and 
bold. 

And Lottie, eldest one of all, 
Said, " On this road I plod, 

To 76, Old Blanket street, 

Bedfordshire, the Land of Nod." 

I wondered where these towns could 
be, 
When mamma softly said, 
" Good night, good night, my chil< 
dren dear ! 
Now hurry off to bed I ' — j. s. 






A TALE OF A BOT-TLE. 

A bot-tle of ink on the 
ta-ble, 
A lit-tle girl on the floor — 
And now I don't think I'll be 
a-ble 
To tell yon an-y-thing more. 

The lit-tle girl up to the 
ta-ble, 
Mam-ma look-ing in at the 
door — 



A TALE OF A BOT-TLE. 

And now I don't think I'll be 
a-ble 
To tell you an-y-thing more. 

The lit-tle girl runs from the 
ta-ble, 
Bot-tle rolls down to the 
floor — 
And now I don't think I'll 
be a-ble 
To tell you an-y-thing more. 

Then mam-ma runs up to the 
ta-ble, 
Lit-tlegirl runs for thedoor — 



A TALE OF A BOT-TLE. 

And now I don't think I'll 
be a-ble 




A ROGUE. 



To tell you an-y-thing 
more. 



A TALE OF A BOT-TLE. 

Mam-ma runs a-way from the 
ta-ble, 
And catch-es the girl at 
the door — 
And now, oh! I know I'm 
not a-ble 
To tell you an-y-thing more. 



A WONDERFUL SCHOLAR 

O, a wonderful scholar 
Is our little Kate ! 
She reads in a. primer ; 

She writes on a slate ; 
Her lines are not even ; 

Her O's are not round; 
And her words in the reader 

Could not be found. 



A WONDERFUL SCHOLAR. 

Her sewing — what puckers! 
What stitches ! what knots 
And along the whole hem, 




There are tiny red spots • 
Her weekly reports 

Tell how oft she has spoken ; 
And there's not a rule 

That she never has broken 

Yet she comes to mamma 
For a smile and a kiss, 



A WONDERFUL SCHOLAR. 

As if a " bad mark," 

Should be paid for by this. 

And she cries in delight, 

While she swings round her hat 
" I'm a wonderful scholar, 

For I can spell 'cat ! ' 

C-A-T, Cat!" 



OUT IN THE MEADOW. 

What do you think I saw to-day 
Out in the meadow bright, 
It tripped along on four little feet 
In a coat all woolly and white; 

I said "Good morning, you pretty 

thing ! " 
And it raised its gentle head 
As if it wanted to chat awhile ; 
But, " Baa-Baa" was all it said ! 

What do you think I led with me, 
Blue eyed, dimpled, and sweet? 



OUT IN THE MEADOW. 

It hardly bent the daisies down 
With two little toddling feet; 

She laughed and chattered at 

Woolly-back, 
She patted his little head ; 
But he talked almost as well as she, 
For " ma-ma " was all she said ! 













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